


i believe in a place you take me

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: It's not like Even would forget to pay their electricity bill on purpose just to have Isak look at him like that.But now that he did - well, he might as well make the most of it.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 42
Kudos: 202





	i believe in a place you take me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Treehouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treehouse/gifts), [colazitron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/gifts), [imminentinertia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imminentinertia/gifts), [nofeartina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofeartina/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, ladies (and everyone else) <3
> 
> Honestly, this was what my brain goaded me into writing after I'd seen [these gifs](https://tarjesandvikmoe.tumblr.com/post/189592967770/tarjei-for-oslo-nye), and I started thinking about how Even would feel if Isak looked at him like THAT. (Spoiler: he likes it)  
> Title from Lana del Rey.  
> Many thanks to [Ghostcat](https://ghostcat3000.tumblr.com) for being a beta babe <3

The thing is, Even knows he’s not particularly good with the boring stuff.  Stuff like changing the sheets, taking out the bottles for recycling or scrubbing the walls in the shower.

It’s not like it’s painful,  really. It’s okay.  Mostly since he gets to do those kinds of things with Isak.

Of course, the novelty of doing grocery shopping or washing the dishes has faded somewhat now that they’ve been living together for almost three years.  Not like the first few months where he was on cloud nine over such a simple thing as defrosting the freezer because it was _theirs_ – but it’s still nice, doing things like that together.

It’s just that some of these things are also really fucking boring, and it’s not like Even doesn’t _do_ them. He just… saves them for later sometimes.

Not like Isak.  Isak, who thinks scrubbing the bathtub or pulling out the stove to vacuum behind it can be a  perfectly acceptable Saturday activity.

Even knows, of course, where it stems from.

From the fact that Isak is used to taking care of all such things. Has been ever since he was sixteen. Not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice.

Unlike Even, who would’ve killed for getting the chance to live alone at that age. But it was, of course, never a possibility.

Even if it claws at Even’s heart, it also makes him kind of proud. He’s always admired this trait in Isak; how serious he is, how he – unlike Even – doesn’t procrastinate.  His bone-hard determination, his stubbornness, his ability to see things through to an end.

Besides, Isak also looks really hot when he’s working.

This particular December Saturday, Isak is doing precisely that – cleaning the stove with his orange rubber gloves on, a splash of color in stark contrast to his knitted black sweater and dark blue jeans, while Even sits at the table going through a pile of mail that’s collected itself on the table over the past week or two.  (It’s okay, he tells himself, December is a busy month and you can’t  be expected  to open everything at once between working and baking and gift hunting and whatnot).

He also takes the opportunity to ogle Isak as he works.  Just a little.

Even if the mail _is_ important, he has to stop for a second now and then.  Admire the way Isak’s jeans hug his hips as he leans over the stove, how he holds himself up with one strong arm on the counter.  Isak cut his hair again last week, in that style that Even’s always liked so much – shorter on the sides with a longer, swoopy curl on top, framing his forehead. While it sort of gives him a Tintin-esque look, it also makes him seem so… grown up.  Like an echo from the future, from ten years ahead when they’ll perhaps spend their Saturdays in a bigger apartment,  maybe a house, and –

Even knows, of course, that none of those things is guaranteed. But he can dream.

“Fuck,” Isak sighs, pulling the gloves off and leaning back against the stove. “We should have cleaned up those tomato sauce stains right away. I don’t get how they can stick that hard.”

“We should have,” Even agrees, and then he has to lick his lips and smile at Isak since they both know why they didn’t clean those stains up last night.

They’d gotten… busy. As happens sometimes.

The side of Isak’s mouth twitches up a little before he throws the gloves on the bench and sinks into the chair across the table from Even, his toes coming to rest at Even’s ankles.

“How’s it going with the mail?” Isak nods to the envelopes in Even’s hands, and Even bites his lip.

It could go better, to be honest.  Even knows there’s a letter from the electric company in there, and unfortunately, he’s pretty sure that it’s not only a bill but a reminder for _last month’s_ bill. The one that Even was in charge of paying.

It's just – it’s not that he doesn’t care about their home or their budget, he’s just been... distracted. By work. Everything that seemed more important or much more appealing in the moment. Isak.

“I can take half of them,” Isak says and stretches out his hand, and while Even’s brain does a feeble attempt at thinking he could sneak the envelope away, his arm has already given Isak a good share of the letters.

Not that Isak would get angry – he seldom gets angry anymore, and even more rarely at Even. Even’s just  – he doesn’t like disappointing Isak, knows he’s too busy being a piece of work in other ways. (Even if Isak would look sternly at him and tell him to cut the bullshit if he’d say it out loud, Even still knows it’s true. Sometimes.)

“Shit, a Christmas card from aunt Grete,” Isak huffs. “I should call her.”

“Mm,” Even agrees, trying to stick his finger under the glue of an unmarked envelope.

“What’s this?” Isak says,  suddenly, a frown in his voice as he hands a piece of paper across the table. “Even. Didn’t you pay the electricity bill after all?”

“I,” Even starts. “I – yeah. I mean no.”

He looks up at Isak, who’s watching him with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and something Even doesn’t know where to place.

“Even,” Isak says, lowering his chin and looking at Even with dark eyes, and Even’s stomach does a weird little jump.

The thing is, he’s completely powerless to Isak when he does this thing where he pretends to be stern with Even.  He loves Isak in any and every way possible, of course, and there’s not much he doesn’t want to try with him or doesn’t enjoy, but this – it sends a special kind of zing down Even’s spine.

He definitely didn’t forget that bill on purpose – he wouldn’t actually risk their power getting cut  in time for Christmas to have Isak look at him like _that,_ but now that he _did_ forget, well –

Even shifts a little in his chair, and it’s obvious from the way Isak’s gaze flitters down to his body that he noticed.

“These things don’t go away just because you ignore them, Even,” Isak says next, and there’s a lower tone to his voice that makes the soles of Even’s feet tingle a little.

He licks his lips as Isak leans his elbows on the table, raising his eyebrows with a not-quite-smile and removing his feet from Even’s calves.

There’s something about the darker shade to Isak’s hair that makes him look more serious, more decisive as he folds his hands on the table and wets his upper lip with his tongue.  The dark knitted shirt he’s wearing underlines it, makes him look kind of authoritative and strict and Even is almost on the way down on the floor already when Isak nods to the envelope lying between them on the table.

“Are you gonna take care of that?”  Isak asks, tilting his head to the side, and Even does actually consider pulling up his phone and opening the bank app for a moment.

But if the bill has been waiting there for more than a month, what’s a minute or two more?

“In a while,” he says, and stretches his foot out so that his toes touch Isak’s knee.

“Even,” Isak says again, more impatient this time. “You can't flirt your way out of this, you know.”

“I can't?” Even responds, and lifts his eyebrows in the way that he, in turn, knows Isak can’t resist.

He wiggles his toes a little against Isak’s knee before running his foot up the inside of his thigh. It's kind of an awkward angle, but he manages to keep his gaze on Isak's face to see how his lips part.  Just a tiny bit, but still.

“No, you can't,” Isak says, a little breathless, but he doesn't move away. Doesn’t squeeze his knees together to stop Even’s foot from twisting its way further up between his legs.

Instead, he grabs on to Even's foot and slides forward in his seat.  Far enough that he leans dangerously close to Even's face, enough for Even to see how his pupils have widened, making his stare dark and inviting.  Close enough that Even can feel the sole of his foot press up against Isak’s crotch and the outline of his hardening dick.

“You’re fucking impossible, Even,” Isak says, and the wet, hoarse shade to his voice makes something hot well up in the bottom of Even’s stomach and claw at the small of his back.

“Yeah?” he answers and squeezes his foot up against Isak’s hard-on, not missing how Isak’s eyelids start to droop.

“Yeah.” Isak nods, a flush creeping up his neck from under the black sweater as Even curls his toes. “Hopeless. I don’t know what I’m – ah – going to do with you –”

His voice trails off into the room when Even removes his foot and stands, takes the few steps around the table and gets down on his knees between Isak’s open legs.

“It’s okay,” Even says and runs his hands up Isak’s jean-clad thighs. “Cause I know what I’m going to do with _you.”_

The jeans are pretty new, Isak bought them for some kind of uni advent get-together only a couple of weeks ago, and the fabric is still a little stiff under Even’s fingers. He huffs as he struggles with the button, and Isak laughs above him.  A breathless,  slightly dreamy laugh that cuts off sharply as Even pulls the fly open and grabs Isak’s dick through his underwear.

“Fuck,” Isak says, one hand grabbing Even’s shoulder.  Even’s chest floods with satisfaction that he’s able to bend Isak to his will like this, with just a move of his wrist and a few choice words.

Not that Even would mind if Isak would put on that stern face again and bend Even to _his_ will a little. Not at all.

“Will you forgive me?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, and moves his hand up and down to feel Isak’s fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder.

“Fuck, Even,” Isak says again. And then, in what Even knows is an attempt to please him, “No.”

“No?”  Even licks his lips, Isak’s thigh tensing up under his palm as he slips his thumb inside the fly of the briefs and rubs it against the side of Isak’s dick.

He leans his head against the side of the table to look up at Isak’s face. Sees him bite his lip and close his eyes, as if he’s actually considering saying yes instead. Even knows it’s for show, but he still waits.  Runs his thumb up and down the shaft of Isak’s dick, the warm silky feel of it a weird contrast to the rugged fabric of his briefs.

“No,” Isak decides at last and shakes his head, opening his legs a little further.

Even can feel the skin on his back heat up and turn a little sweaty as he slips his other fingers through the fly as well. Keeps his eyes on Isak’s face as he closes his hand around his hard dick and thumbs across the wet slit.  Feels his own dick press against his underwear as Isak lowers his chin and watches him with that dark, demanding expression.

Isak’s struggling to stay composed, Even knows it, but he also knows Isak’s doing it for _him,_ and it floods his chest with warmth as well as something… else. Something that makes him pull at Isak’s dick, slip it out through his underwear and shuffle closer. Close enough that he can stretch out his tongue and lick at the tip.

“No?” he asks again, only to hear Isak sigh above him.

“Fuck no,” Isak breathes, and then he cards his fingers through Even’s hair and curls them a little.  Even holds his breath for what’s coming next; feels the pulse beat hard in his stomach as Isak pulls on his hair and directs Even’s mouth right where he wants it.

He keeps his eyes closed as he lets Isak’s dick slide up the roof of his mouth. Revels in the moan that Isak lets out when Even presses his tongue up and sucks lightly.  Loves how he can draw these sounds out of Isak with just his mouth and his lips, loves how Isak keeps his head in place and urges him to keep going. Not pushing or forcing, but to show Even how he wants it, how much he enjoys what Even’s doing to him.

Even wets his lower lip with his tongue, lets everything go wet and slippery before he draws a deep breath through his nose and pushes his head down.  Feels Isak’s dick touch the back of his throat and jerk a little on his tongue, a proud kind of satisfaction welling up in him when Isak’s grip hardens in his hair.  He does it again; goes even further down to let Isak know that it’s okay for him to fuck his throat a little, to use him as he sees fit.

There are times when Even desperately needs this. When he needs Isak to pull him out of his head by forcing him to focus on his own body. When he has to take Even to the brink of what he can manage so he doesn't shatter into pieces. When the only thing that can settle him is Isak fucking him hard and holding him down.

And then there are times like these; a  perfectly ordinary Saturday morning in the kitchen. When he does it simply because he wants to.

Wants to hear Isak pant above him, wants to feel his thighs tense up under his hands, wants Isak to look down at him with that stern look as he comes on Even's face –

He flattens his tongue against Isak’s dick and moves his head faster. Digs his nails into the soft flesh of his own palm and ignores the tears burning behind his eyelids. His own hard dick is straining in his pants, but he doesn’t really care for it right now – focuses on Isak’s moans instead. On his hips jerking erratically, on his hand locked around the back of Even's head, keeping him in place.

“Even, fuck, I’m –” Isak gasps, the hand in Even’s hair opening and closing, and just like that Even forgets all about his former plans. Only locks his lips around Isak’s dick and sucks, hard.  Isak tenses up underneath him and then Even’s mouth floods with warmth, with the encompassing waves of Isak coming in him, because of him, for him, and he keeps his eyes closed. Runs his hand up Isak’s stomach and feels the muscles there shudder.

He makes sure to lick up every drop of come as he lets Isak’s dick slide out of his mouth. Wants to keep it inside, to keep the feeling of Isak in him, with him, all day.

“Fuck, Even,” Isak says again, fingers loose around Even's neck, the skin on his waist sweaty under Even’s palm. “Come up here.”

Both Even’s neck and his legs feel stiff, and his knees ache a little as he heaves himself up and sits down across Isak’s thighs.  There's a lot of long limbs to fit on an ordinary kitchen chair, and Even almost falls off trying to position himself so Isak can hold him.

Even though the breathy laugh Isak lets out kinda would be worth falling to the floor for.

There’s nothing of the stern look left on Isak’s face when he tips his chin up and looks at Even with a droopy-eyed smile – but it doesn’t matter.  Even’s perfectly content seeing him like this, too – the sweat-dark curl sticking to his forehead, the stubble on his jaw underlining the dip in his chin.  His gapped teeth like sugar cubes, and Even puts his hand on Isak’s temple, runs his thumb along the ridge of his cheek and smiles back.

“You okay?” Isak asks, and puts his index finger on Even’s lower lip.  It feels swollen,  probably dark pink in the way he knows Isak likes it, and he licks at Isak’s finger pad, the ruggedness of it odd against his tongue, and still so familiar.

He nods and clears his throat, but his voice still comes out rough, with a dishevelled tone to it. Another thing that he knows Isak not so secretly likes. “Yeah.”

“Want help with this?”  Isak runs his hand over the bulge in Even’s pants and presses a little, making something hot swirl up in the pit of Even’s stomach.

He does. Of course, he does. But right now, he mostly wants to stay here. Sit here in Isak’s lap, watch the smile bloom across his face and feel Isak’s chest expand against his as they breathe. He doesn’t mind keeping this glowing, tickling feeling in his stomach for a while longer. Let it build there and feel safe in the knowledge that Isak will take care of it.  Eventually.

“In a while,” he says, and cards his fingers through the hair on Isak’s forehead, where it’s still long enough that Even can twirl it between his fingers.

Isak moves his hand to the small of Even’s back, his finger tracing the edge of Even’s pants but not dipping under. “Okay.”

It’s an awkward angle, and he’s still a bit stiff, but at that moment, Even just has to kiss him.  Doesn’t care if his neck hurts or if his back will kill him tomorrow; only lowers his face and presses their lips together, hears Isak sigh as Even cups his face with his hands.

“Maybe  I’ve forgotten to clean under the bed,” Even whispers on his lips. “Maybe  you need to tell me off for that later.”

“Fuck off,” Isak breathes, but his smile is wide under Even’s mouth, and his fingers are warm and soft against the column of Even’s neck when he caresses it. “Yeah.  Maybe  I need to do that. Later.”

“Later,” Even agrees.

Right now, he really doesn’t want to think about cleaning or bills or anything boring. Only wants this; Isak's mouth on his, Isak’s fingers in his hair, the tip of Isak’s nose rubbing against his own.

They’ll deal with that later. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> A very merry Christmas and New Year's and everything else to all of you.  
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://irazor.tumblr.com) <3


End file.
